To Protect and Serve
by Laura Picken
Summary: Sam leaps into Jim Ellison, and has to learn how to deal with Jim's Sentinel abilities not to mention having two Guides before a murderer kills Blair, Simon, and the rest of the Major Crimes Division.
1. Chapter 1

**To Protect and Serve  
**by Laura Picken

**Summary:** Crossover with _Quantum Leap_. Sam leaps into Jim Ellison, and has to learn how to deal with Jim's Sentinel abilities (not to mention having two Guides) before a murderer kills Blair, Simon, and the rest of the Major Crimes Division.

Hi all! At first, I thought this was a weird concept- until you guys started bugging me to finish the story. So many of you have been telling me how much you loved Quantum Leap I'm beginning to wonder why someone else hasn't tried this sooner. (Hint hint? No, Dawn, I'm not making another story suggestion. - This- one's for Sue! *g*) Anyhoo...

**Disclaimer:** The Sentinel and all related characters belong to Pet Fly Productions and UPN; Sam, Al and all related characters and concepts from Quantum Leap belong to Bellisarius Productions and (I think) at the moment, the SciFi Channel. I'm not making any money off of this, I do it purely for fun, so please don't sue, okay? If you who are TPTB don't like the crossover, let me know and I'll take it down.

Commissioner Diane McPherson, though, is mine. Please don't use her without permission. I'll probably give it if you ask, though! In terms of a frame of reference to my own stories, this story is pre - "Blinded by the Light" but after "Stage Fright".

All who are not TPTB, however, are also more than welcome to e- mail me with constructive criticism, praise, even flames! Go on, I dare ya...

Also, two major warnings: this -is- a death story, but I will tell you that I do - not-, and will not now or ever write a story in which I kill off Jim, Blair, Simon, Joel, Rafe, Brown, or Naomi. Sorry guys, but I don't consider that entertainment. Oh, and I will go back on something that I wrote at the beginning of _Blinded by the Light_: this is probably the one and only story where I -will- include Forensics chief Cassandra Wells, aka Cassie. Those of you who know me have probably already put two and two together - read on and enjoy... *vbeg* hehehehehehehe... ;-)

**Acknowledgements:** (There are a lot of them for this one, folks! I had a lot of help.) A hundred thousand thank yous to - Sue- Wells (not to be confused with Cassie), who's been kind enough to beta read this for me and let me borrow all her zines to make sure the QL side of this makes sense.

I cannot thank my beta readers enough on this one - Dana Terry, D.L. Witherspoon, Lya Crichlow, Danae, Beth Hlabse and Vera Barga. (Forgive me, gang, if I left anyone out.) Everyone of them saw something different that could be improved-things I never would have caught. I was scared that with so many betas, there wouldn't be anyone left interested in reading the story, but I've been turning people away! You guys are -so- cool...

Thanks also to Odonata and Elizabeth Grace who are letting me quote their wonderfully scientific discussion about exactly -why- Jim has enhanced senses (along with Songbird who informed me about their little conversation in the first place).

Anyway, on with the show...

* * *

The disorienting effect of leaping was nothing new to Dr. Sam Beckett, but the first experiences in this new body, even his Swiss-cheesed memory told him, were like nothing he had ever been through before.

Before he was even able to open his eyes, his ears were assaulted by a deafening cacophony of sounds, ranging from a crying baby that sounded like the child was right next to him, to a bizarre pounding that sounded like it was right above his head.

He wanted to scream, but the rush of cold air that he felt in his throat and his lungs every time he took a breath kept him from uttering a sound. And the smells that were assaulting his nose-from the scrambled eggs and sausage cooking downstairs, to some type of weird herbal combination he couldn't identify-were so strong they were turning his stomach. As he started to toss and turn in the bed, he felt every fiber of the cotton sheets beneath him itch like he was sleeping between sheets of burlap, so he froze where he lay. Even then he was easily able to feel every thread of the sheets above and beneath him and every stitch of the cotton thread that was holding his boxers together.

So what had just happened to him?

As he lay as still as possible, barely breathing, eyes shut tight, all Sam could do was think to himself, "Oh boy!"

* * *

[What's with Jim?] thought Blair. He had been downstairs for an hour fixing breakfast, which was rapidly getting cold. Jim had been emphatic about making sure that the younger man had set his alarm clock to get up early for the briefing that the Commissioner had talked to them about late last night. Apparently six or seven police officers had died of mysterious causes within seven hours of each other on Friday night. Since, when the commissioner called, the coroner's report was still pending, she was going to give them the information when they got to her office - which was where they were supposed to be in less than an hour. Yet Blair had not heard so much as a peep out of the Sentinel that morning. Worried that his friend might have taken ill, [or worse, Blair thought in frustration,] Blair climbed the stairs to Jim's bedroom.

He didn't like what he found at all. Jim was laying in his bed, arms at his sides, eyes shut tight and fighting off some sort of very obvious pain. He didn't move an inch from that position, but Blair could see clearly the beads of sweat forming on the older man's forehead. Rushing to his friend's side, he kneeled next to the bed. Gently laying a hand on Jim's arm, he whispered, "Jim? Man, what's going on?"

The whispers of the man next to him cut through the noises assaulting Sam, instinctively calming him while the touch on his arm seemed to lessen the discomfort of the sheets. Moaning slightly, Sam was able to utter one word: "Hurts..."

[Oh man, his senses must have gone haywire during the night! What in the world could have possibly brought this on?] Blair pushed the thoughts of a possible cause aside for the moment as the Guide let his mind focus on how to help his Sentinel through the pain. "All right Jim, just try to relax, man. Take a deep breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth. I know it hurts, man, but just try to do this for me, okay? Picture your hearing dial. Turn it down until you can only hear the sound of my voice..."

As the man next to him led him through what seemed to be a familiar routine, Sam complied as best he could- -relaxing as his senses seemed to return to normal. He opened his eyes, blinking at the bright light in the room but otherwise he was able to adjust as usual. Sam turned to face the man who had talked him out of that hell. "Thanks."

Concerned, Blair responded, "Jim, what happened, man? Your senses were totally out of control there. I had to talk you through every one. What's going on? You getting sick or something?"

He thought about the question carefully. Besides the sensory assault, he felt fine. And, as a doctor, he couldn't think of any illnesses where the only symptom was severe hypersensitivity of the senses. Even still, the young man treated his hyperactive senses as normal. It was only the obvious loss of control that was concerning him. Trying to sound calm, cool and collected, he reassured the younger man, "I'm fine. Everything's back to normal."

Blair looked at him with great skepticism. Jim didn't sound fine, and he certainly didn't look fine. He knew, though, that when Jim didn't want to talk about something, he could try prying it out of his friend with a crowbar and it wouldn't work. Cautiously he directed his roommate, "Well, you better hurry up and get ready, Jim. We don't want to be late for our meeting with Diane. You know how much she hates it if I'm late. Then again, maybe it would be nice to see you get the flak this time."

Sarcastically, Sam replied, "Ha, ha, very funny," to which the younger man smiled his response.

Blair got up from the side of the bed and headed to the stairwell, declaring, "I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes, then."

Sam called back, "Right. I'll see you downstairs." He sat up in the bed, swinging his feet over to the floor, trying to convince Jim's exhausted body to get up and get moving. He listened to the sounds of the younger man he knew was downstairs, amazed that he could hear from what seemed to be quite a distance...

Sam shook himself out of whatever self-imposed stupor he had ended up in. It was almost like he had lost himself in the sounds downstairs, forgetting even to breathe. He started to whisper for Al, his holographic companion. Even though he knew the man couldn't hear him, he wished that calling Al would immediately get him to appear, like on that show I Dream of Jeannie he used to watch as a kid. He could really use Al's help right now, because he had no idea who he was, where he was, or what was going on.

Resigning himself to the fact that Al was off doing something else for the moment, he set about finding something, anything that might let him have some clue as to who he was. The evidence was not hard to find: on a table near the bed, he spotted a police badge wallet and a gun. While he hated guns as a general rule, he did know how to use one, so he was safe on that account. He picked up the wallet and inspected it carefully. [Detective James Ellison,] Sam thought, [Why does that name sound familiar?] He pushed those thoughts aside as he looked in the wallet confirming that he was, in fact, Detective James Ellison. Sam's pace quickened when he remembered that, according to the man downstairs, one Detective James Ellison was going to be late for what seemed to be a very important meeting if one Dr. Sam Beckett didn't get a move on. Looking over the clothes in the closet, Sam picked out something that looked like what a detective might have worn to the station, and began getting dressed.

* * *

As Sam finished getting dressed, he heard the young man downstairs talking to someone. Wanting to hear what the young man was saying, he strained to listen to the young man's end of conversation:

"I don't know, Commissioner. I'm worried about him. When I found him this morning his senses were on total overload. Now he won't talk to me about it, and I have no idea why it happened."

He heard another voice through a bit of static. What was he hearing? More importantly, -how- was he hearing it?

"And you've had no possible hint that he might be getting sick or anything? He didn't take anything last night that might cause his senses to go haywire?"

"No. Or if he did, he didn't tell me about it."

Sam heard the woman, apparently the city Police Commissioner, sigh loudly. She asked Blair, "Blair, do you think I should assign someone else to this case?"

Sam muttered, "Assign someone else to the case...?" Why did that sound like a bad idea to him?

Sam tried to listen to more of this strange conversation, but he nearly jumped through the roof instead when he heard Al exclaim behind him, "Don't let her do that, Sam! If she assigns someone other than Jim to this case, Ziggy says there's a 99% chance that you and most of the Cascade police force will die mysterious deaths that might never be solved!"

Sam could have sword he heard Jim Ellison's heart skip a few beats. The woman he was hearing was on the other end of a -phone- -call-? Turning to Al, he asked the older man, "Al, how can -you- tell what- Blair?" Al nodded, confirming the name Sam had heard the hologram just use as Sam continued, "How did you know that the commissioner's thinking of assigning someone else to this case?" [For that matter, how did -I- know that?]

Waving the handlink in front of his friend's face, Al simply replied, "Ziggy. Besides, I heard you muttering under your breath. Now get down there before Blair puts down that phone!"

Trying unsuccessfully to set aside the sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, Sam casually bounced down the stairs, trying to act innocent, and declared, "Let's get a move on. Like you said, Blair, we don't want to be late for that meeting."

Blair cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and asked him, "You sure you're okay, Jim?"

Sam looked at him and calmly replied, "Blair, I'm fine. Let's go."

The look of concern did not leave Blair's face as he returned his attention to the phone. "Commissioner, Jim's just about to push me out the door here, so we'll be there in a few minutes. See you then." He hung up the phone, flashed another look of concern at his partner, then followed the older man's lead as they walked out the door.

* * *

Blair continued to eye the man in front of him suspiciously as Jim opened the door, then held it open and let Blair go in front of him. As much as the older man wanted to act like everything was fine, there were too many things that made the anthropologist think that something was up. Things like walking in front of Jim instead of beside him or one step behind. The sensory overload this morning. Not to mention Jim oversleeping. Then, to top it all off, Jim called him by his first name. Twice. [No,] thought the anthropologist, [This doesn't add up.] He decided to keep an extra careful eye on the older man that day. [If Jim won't talk to me about what's going on,] thought Blair, [Maybe I can observe it out of him. After all, that -is- part of what I'm supposed to be doing anyway, isn't it?]

As he walked over to the passenger side of the truck, Blair felt something hit his shoulder. [What the-?] He looked down to the pavement...

...and found the strangest sight he had seen in all the years he had been working with Jim.

The keys to the truck.

Confused, he picked up the keys and looked back at his partner. Sam asked him calmly, "Why don't you drive today, Blair?"

[-Now- I've finally heard everything!] thought Blair. Out loud he joked, "All right, who are you and what have you done with Jim Ellison?"

Sam tensed up slightly before he realized the younger man was joking. Nervously he laughed and replied, "Ha, ha, very funny. I just wanted to catch a few more zzzzzs before we go into the meeting, that's all. Now can we get going already?"

Blair threw his hands up in mock defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll drive." [That's one more to add to the list of strange behaviors from Jim today.] Blair walked around Sam and climbed into the driver's side of the truck. He flashed his partner another look of concern as Sam climbed into the passenger side and got comfortable. Resolving not to rest until he found out what was going on, he looked out his rear view mirror as he started to pull out of the parking space...

...and slammed on the brakes as a middle-aged man in a loud, tasteless suit seemed to appear out of thin air in the back seat of the truck. Before Sam could say anything, Blair wheeled around and looked the man straight in the eye. "All right, who are you, and how did you get in here?"

After recovering from the surprise of the brakes, Sam turned around to see Al sitting in the back seat of the truck with a stunned look on his face. It seemed that kids and crazy people weren't the only ones who could see Al.

Apparently, so could Blair Sandburg.

Resting his head against the passenger seat head rest, Sam took in a deep breath and exclaimed, "Oh boy!"

* * *

The first thing that Jim Ellison noticed as he woke up was the lights. [Well Toto, it looks like we're not in Kansas anymore...] Although the lights were bright, they were far from blinding, but he still tried to control his breathing and turn down the dial on his vision slightly, to make things a little more comfortable.

The second thing he noticed was that although he could picture the dials in his head, changing the levels did nothing. [Strange,] Jim thought, [Maybe I'm just tired.] He tried to extend his hearing past the boundaries of the room to get some idea of where he was, but he heard no sounds outside of his own breathing. [Hmmm...maybe they're running white noise generators...] It was when he tried to analyze the smells in the room that he realized exactly what had happened: not only was he being held in some sort of unknown location, his senses had been, as he had once told Simon, 'downgraded to normal'. What in the world was going on here?

And where was Blair? There was no way to tell if whoever had taken him had abducted his Guide as well. That worried Jim. He prayed silently that wherever he was, that Blair was not here, and that wherever Blair was, that the younger man was safe. He added another quick prayer that Blair and Simon would find him somehow and get him out of there. The disappearance of his heightened senses was disturbing, but survivable. And once he was able to find Blair, he was certain the anthropologist would understand exactly what was going on.

After all, he had always figured out these kind of problems before-why not now?


	2. Chapter 2

The one thing Al Calavicci hated more than anything else in the world was not knowing what was going on with his best friend, Dr. Sam Beckett. And right now, he didn't have a clue.

The Admiral started barking out orders from the minute he left the imaging chamber. "Ziggy! I need everything you can get me on a Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg from Cascade, Washington, and I need it yesterday!"

Even the computer knew not to give the Admiral a hard time when he was in this bad a mood. Ziggy's disembodied voice answered, "Yes Sir, Admiral. Right away."

Al immediately went to Dr. Alese's bank of computers, where she sat focused on a screen, working intently. Normally, the observer hesitated to tell her about the way one of her husband's leap was going, but this time Al knew the -other- Dr. Beckett might be able to be of some help. Moments earlier it had just hit Al that Sam should not have known the commissioner was looking to assign someone else to the case. "Donna, was Sam ever psychic?"

Donna looked up from her work, frowning in confusion. "Al, Sam's a brilliant man, but don't think -anyone- would consider him psychic. Why do you ask?"

Al started to pace near the computer banks. Stopping, he called to the air, "Ziggy, was Detective Ellison ever believed to possess psychic abilities?"

Ziggy replied, "Accessing...an exit interview by an Inspector Megan Connor in early 1999 gives a suspicion of psychic abilities in the Detective, but there is no corroborating evidence given. No other reports list or confirm the Inspector's suspicion."

Al started to pace again. [Then how would Sam know about the possibility of Ellison being reassigned? Unless...no way. That sounds even less possible than being psychic.] Stopping again, the Admiral asked Donna, "What about his hearing? How good was it?"

Now Donna was even more confused. "Al, I have -no- idea what you're talking about. Sam's hearing was no better than anybody else's, at least not signifigantly. Why?"

Al mused, "I think Sam heard the wrong end of a phone conversation from the opposite side of the room."

Donna shook her head in disbelief. "Al, that's impossible. No one has hearing that acute!"

Ziggy interrupted their conversation. "I believe I may have found a possible explanation, Admiral."

"Well don't just sit there," replied Al. "Spit it out!"

Ziggy began her customary detailed explanation. "Well, Admiral, as you know, Jim Ellison is a detective with the Cascade Police Department..."

Al could immediately tell where the long-winded computer was going. "Can you - summarize- this information, Ziggy?"

Ziggy hated being talked to like that, and her attitude showed in her voice, "Very well, -Admiral-. According to my records, the Blair Sandburg who is working with Dr. Beckett was an anthropologist who had just completed his Ph.D. on Subcultures within a Police Force. His master's thesis, though, was most fascinating. Apparently, he had conducted a study on people who possess one or more abnormally heightened senses."

Al understood immediately. "So Jim Ellison would be one of those people?"

Ziggy replied, "Most likely, Admiral."

Donna asked, "Wait a second, Ziggy. I thought Sam didn't take on the physical characteristics of the person he leaps into?"

Ziggy replied, "True. However, the work of later neurophysiologists came to the conclusion that human sensory input is controlled by the brain. According to their reports, the ability to consciously control one's sensory input would be connected to controlling the release of specific neurotransmitters at the synapse or through the ability to enhance or dampen the subsequent afferent nerve impulse before it reaches..."

Interrupting Ziggy before she went on for twenty minutes, Al asked the question that was bugging him the most. "That's very interesting , Ziggy, but how come our Dr. Sandburg can see -me-?"

Donna, Ziggy and Gooshie (who until this point had only barely been listening to the discussion) all exclaimed simultaneously, "What?!"

Al repeated, "He can -see- me, plain as he can see anyone else around him."

Ziggy mused, "Interesting..." She was quiet for almost a full minute while she accessed a thousand gigabytes of information per second, then immediately exclaimed, "I've got it!"

Donna, curious to learn more about whatever it was that was going on, asked, "Got what, Ziggy?"

Skipping any preamble, Ziggy immediately replied, "I further cross-referenced all information relating to anything that Professor Sandburg mentioned in his master's thesis. A person having one or two heightened senses could be explained away as having some minor genetic abnormality or possible psychosis in most cases. The person Mr. Sandburg most wanted to study, who could only be described as the stuff of legend, was a full-fledged Sentinel."

Confused by the unusual term, Al asked, "Sentinel?"

Ziggy repeated, "Sentinel. A Sentinel is a person who has all their senses enhanced. The few references I could find to Sentinels describe them as having the five physical senses grossly enhanced. I hypothesize from the available research that a Sentinel's sixth sense would be enhanced as well."

Al started to pace the length of the control room. A person with an enhanced sixth sense? This had possibilities. "Go on."

Ziggy continued, "A primitive Sentinel almost always had a partner with him, called a Guide. This Guide would help the Sentinel to control and focus his abilities without losing himself to them. Applying that knowledge to the limited information that you have given me, I would theorize Professor Sandburg has become, through the time he has worked with Detective Ellison, said Sentinel's Guide."

[That's quite helpful,] thought Al impatiently as he spoke the rest of the thought out loud, "But that still doesn't answer my question. If Sam is the one with the enhanced sixth sense, then why can - Blair- see me?"

Ziggy sighed impatiently, replying, "Admiral, I had not finished my theory yet. The referenced literature notes that, over time, a close friendship develops between a Sentinel and his Guide. In many ways, they are like brothers. However, the description of the Guide relationship does not take in the possibility of an enhanced sixth sense in a Sentinel. From the available information, I would theorize that a Sentinel's mind is subconsciously linked with his Guide's on a telepathic level. Therefore, since that is the level that on which you communicate with Dr. Beckett-"

Al finally caught on. "...Blair would be able to communicate with me on a similar level."

If Ziggy had a face, she would have smiled. "Precisely."

* * *

Jim Ellison may no longer have had his heightened senses, but he could still zone out. Particularly in a large, white room with nothing to do. After he realized that the only way he could get out of this 'holding cell' would be to either talk his way out or overpower whoever it was who was guarding him, he laid down on the cot that had been provided for him, planning. And waiting.

He heard the door open near him, and close just as quickly. Whoever it was who was in the room with him didn't want him getting out. As Jim sat up, he discovered his companion was a middle-aged man who was reeked of cigar smoke (even without his heightened sense of smell), and wore the loudest clothes Jim had ever seen. The man greeted him, "Detective Ellison?"

"Yes," replied Jim calmly.

"Admiral Al Calavicci, US Navy," the man replied, "Nice to meet you. I need some information."

[Okay, play dumb first,] thought Jim. He repeated, "Information?"

[Oh, so he's trying to play dumb, is he?] thought Al. "Yes, information. About your Guide."

-That- not only got Jim's attention, it sent his protective instincts into overdrive. He rammed the smaller man against the wall and growled, "Just exactly -what- have you done with him?"

Al fought back, quickly distracting the larger man and harmlessly subduing him. As stubborn as the other man was, apparently he didn't realized that his body wasn't quite what it used to be, either. "-Captain- Ellison, I haven't done anything to him. As a matter of fact, he's fine, for now. But unless you help me, an UNSUB we haven't been able to identify yet will kill Blair Sandburg and most of the Cascade Police Force before you get back. And if they die, you may not be able to get back at all. Now will you help me or not?"

Winded and surprised by the self-defense skill the older man possessed, Jim still refused to budge. "How do I know you won't kill him anyway? Or, for that matter, that you haven't killed him already?"

Al sighed. He hated to do this, but he had a feeling that Ellison wasn't about to talk unless he understood the extraordinary nature of the situation. "Detective, this is part of a top secret government operation."

Jim rolled his eyes. "No. Really?"

[Wrong choice of words.] Considering the background information Ziggy had just given him, he shouldn't have been surprised at Ellison's reaction. The man knew the government - considering his 'abilities', his worst nightmare was probably ending up some government guinea pig in a lab and kept in a room that wouldn't look much different from the one he was in now. Tightening his hold on the other man's arms, Al added, "Despite what you're thinking, Captain, - you- are not the focus of this project's work, either for who you are-or what you are. Despite what you're thinking, we're the good guys here."

Jim was losing patience-although he was surprised that he was still unable to get out of the hold the shorter, older man had on his arms. "And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

Al sighed again. He hated stubborn leapees. Why did he seem to be forced to deal with them so often? Maybe it was 'God's' way of getting back at him for his own stubbornness. Forcing Ellison over to the reflecting pool the younger man had, evidently, not discovered on his own, Al took a chance and bet that if Sam was having to learn how to deal with Ellison's enhanced senses, then Ellison was just now realizing that he -didn't- have them. "Haven't you notice that you don't quite feel like -yourself- today?"

Jim was floored. It was clear they knew that he was a Sentinel. But -how- could they have possibly known that he -didn't- have his senses? Jim had been awake long enough to know that he didn't have any unusual scars or fresh stitches, and there was no way they could have found anything physically unusual about him. Turning his head, he looked down at the pool the older man had brought him to...

It was unbelievable. The older man's reflection stared back at them, but the reflection that was next to it-the one that should have been his-wasn't. It was of a man who was almost his height, but considerably thinner and with a lot more hair. The older man - Admiral Calavicci - released him from the arm lock, and Jim reached down to touch the reflection. The other man's reflection reached down synchronously, stopping when the reflection wavered under his touch. What the hell was going on? Standing up he mused, "This has gotta be some sort of trick."

"It's no trick, Captain. Look at your hands. Are they yours?" Jim shook his head. "Is there anything else I can do to convince you? Do you -really- want to take that kind of a chance with Blair's life while I do?"

Jim didn't need his Sentinel abilities to recognize the sincerity in Al's voice. When Jim shook his head again, Al understood that as a sign of Jim's reluctant coperation. "All right then. First, I need to know how to gain your partner's confidence. Do you have any nicknames you call him?..."


	3. Chapter 3

A hand on Sam's arm shook him away from the myriad of panicked thoughts that were going through his head. He realized that he hadn't been aware of anything around him for a couple of minutes, and that it was Blair's hand on his arm that was bringing his thoughts back into focus. The younger man was starting to look very worried.

Blair pulled into the parking space at police headquarters and shut off the engine. As he undid his seat belt to get out of the truck the younger man declared, "All right, Jim, that's it. First your senses go haywire on you, then you zone out for almost ten minutes. I almost thought I was going to have to turn the truck around and drive you to a hospital. Now will you -please- tell me what is going on with you today? And who -was- that guy? I know you saw him-it seemed like he vanished into thin air a couple of minutes after you first zoned out. So either you let me know what's going on or we're going to turn around right now and I'm going to put you through so many tests you'll wish you never met me."

Sam started to try to make up some sort of excuse for acting 'weird'. No matter what, he knew he had to try and convince the younger man that he -was- Jim Ellison and that, physically, he was fine. Maybe, just maybe, he could even convince Blair that Al was a figment of his imagination..."Blair, I know things have been a little strange today..."

"Strange? Strange doesn't even -begin- to cover it, Jim. You haven't been yourself from the minute you woke up this morning." Blair was getting sick and tired of Jim shrugging him off by saying he was fine. Normally the older man was far more open, particularly about his senses. The younger man had gone past concerned and worried; now he was just plain angry. He insisted, "Jim, you've shown less control over your senses now than you had when you first came to me. It's like you're getting them for the first time..." Blair's concentration and mental focus on his Sentinel's problems were growing sharper by the second, as they always did when Jim refused to open up and Blair, in return, refused to give up.

That focus, though, could not possibly prepare him for what he saw next.

In the blink of an eye, Jim Ellison disappeared. Blair stepped back, gawking openly as in Jim's place stood a slightly older man, who had brown hair that was slightly longer than Jim's buzz cut, although it wasn't nearly as long as the younger man's. And the man was markedly thinner than the well-built former Army captain. Yet, this man was wearing the same clothes that Jim Ellison had had on less than a millisecond earlier. Blair stepped back for a minute, startled by the quick transformation.

His protective instincts for his Sentinel, though, kicked in in a heartbeat. Slamming the stranger into the side of the truck, he demanded, "All right, who are you -really-, and what have you done with Jim Ellison?"

Sam started to try to reason with the obviously deranged younger man, "Blair, what are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that!" growled Blair. He shoved Sam into the truck even harder. "I don't know what kind of mass hypnosis technique you're using to convince other people that you're Jim, but it - doesn't-..."

A gravely voice behind Blair cut him off before he could say anymore. "Let him go, Darwin."

[Why does that voice sound familiar? And how in the world did whoever it was think to call me Darwin?] Blair turned around to see the loudly dressed man from earlier that morning standing behind him again. The man stared him down with a look of determined resignation as he offered, "Is there somewhere we can talk that's a little more private?"

Disoriented, Blair turned back to look at the man he was holding against the wall. Sure enough, the face of Jim Ellison stared back at him. Praying he wasn't simply losing his mind Blair nodded, and led the two men back to the truck.

Getting into the front seat, Blair watched as the man who was imitating Jim got into the front passenger seat, then gasped in shock as the other man passed - through- the back panel of the truck and sat down in the back seat. Regaining his composure, Blair demanded, "Okay, now will someone -please- explain to me what's going on?"

Sam looked over to Al, who gave him silent permission to say whatever he felt was appropriate in this highly unusual situation. Sam drew in a deep breath and explained, "Okay, as you can see, I'm not Detective Ellison. My real name is Dr. Sam Beckett. How I got here is something I don't have the time to explain to you right now. Just know that you're the only person who can see me as me and not Jim-" He looked to Al for confirmation of his assumption, and Al nodded his agreement in return.

Sam then continued, "And you're the only person who can see Al at all besides me. Now I don't know exactly why I'm here, but the most likely explanation is to help explain the deaths of those cops this weekend. As for why you're the only one who can see us, I have a feeling that Al knows more about it than I do- -" Sam again looked to Al, who nodded his agreement. Sam then asked Blair, "Just trust me until after the meeting with the Commissioner, and after that we'll explain the whole thing in detail, okay?"

Blair's glanced in the rear view mirror, and noticed that Al cast no reflection. Turning the mirror to face 'Sam', the image of Jim Ellison stared back at them. [Maybe what they're saying is true...] thought Blair. It would explain a lot: Jim's strange behavior, the long zone-outs, and the complete loss of control this morning. It would also reassure him that -he- wasn't the one seeing things. And besides, they were late for the meeting. "All right," agreed Blair, with great reluctance, "But the people in this meeting have to be convinced that you're Jim, and I - must- get a -full- explanation after the meeting."

"Agreed," declared Sam. "Now let's go. We're late."

* * *

Diane watched the two men walking into her office with great trepidation and little patience. She declared to the two men, "You're late, gentlemen." With sincere concern, she then asked, "Is everything okay?"

Blair and Sam looked at each other, Sam in particular trying to gauge whether or not Diane could really - see- him. Sam then shrugged and replied, "We're fine, ma'am. The truck actually stalled out on us on the way here. I'm sorry - we should have called and let you know. I just didn't think it would take so long to get it fixed..."

Diane glared at Jim, then relented. The lie was an obvious one, but it seemed harmless enough to just let it slide. If Jim wanted to tell her the truth, he'd do so when he was good and ready. And he'd never been late before, unlike his free-spirited partner. Besides, he called her ma'am. Everyone else always called her commissioner (or, like Simon, Diane). He was being so polite...she concluded it was probably best she didn't know. If she -had- to know, she could always insist later that the good professor put it in his report. Sighing, she announced, "All right, Jim. Whatever it was, I'll let it slide -this- -time-." Then, fixing her gaze directly on Blair she added, "I have a feeling I don't want to know what really happened?"

[You got that right,] thought Blair. Apparently, neither Diane nor Simon noticed anything different, other than Jim acting unusual. That wasn't all that strange; they had actually been able to attribute a lot of odd behavior in the past to the Sentinel-Guide thing, so why wouldn't that excuse work now?

As the two men sat down next to their captain, Blair looked around the room to see if 'Al' was still following them. Sure enough, he was pacing the back of the room, smoking a cigar that, for some reason, Blair couldn't smell. [Maybe I'm just used to the smell. After all, Simon smokes so many of them...]

It was at that moment that Blair realized Simon, Diane and Sam were all staring at him. He must have been so focused on trying to figure out whether everyone could see Al that he had ignored their attempts to get his attention. Resting his eyes on Diane, Blair took a deep breath and settled down. [They can't see Al, either, or someone would have acknowledged his presence...]

Diane glared at the distracted young man in front of her and wondered what could be affecting him so badly. If it were Jim who were shifting around so much, she would have immediately assumed that he heard something that meant trouble, in which case she would simply wait until he told them what he heard, and act accordingly. But Blair was simply acting like a five-year-old in church who refused to sit still. Sternly, she asked Blair, "-Dr.- Sandburg, would you like to join the rest of us for the discussion of this case?"

Blushing from embarrassment, Blair nodded. Seeing that she now had the attention of -everyone- in the room, Diane handed out case folders to the three men and began, "Very well, then. As I mentioned to you over the phone over the weekend, six officers died within a six-hour period on Friday. All of these men were fairly healthy at this point in their lives; in fact, one of the men was barely two years out of the academy. Since none of them were ill enough that they could have been considered likely to die of natural causes..."

"Stranger things have happened..." muttered Sam.

Diane continued, "True. But even the ME admitted that the odds of six officers, particularly six officers in their condition, within hours of each other, are staggering. I'd like you to do a simple follow-up investigation to rule out any possible signs of foul play. As always, you will have full access to everything in the department, including the Medical Examiner's office. In two days I have to release the bodies of these men to their families if we don't find something, so that limits our window of opportunity. Captain Banks, can I safely assume that you'll reassign anything these two men are working on?" Simon nodded, and Diane affirmed, "Very well then, gentlemen. That will be all. Good luck."

As Diane turned to focus on some paperwork, the men took that as their cues to leave. Sensing a 'partners' discussion about to erupt, Simon quickly left the two men, telling them, "I have to get gas. I'm assuming you are going to start the investigation?" Seeing both heads nod, he concluded, "All right then, I'll see you two in the bullpen, okay?"

Blair and Jim/Sam replied, "Yes sir," and Simon left as Blair quietly led Sam back to the truck, followed seconds later by Al. Blair asked Sam, "All right, we got through the meeting, and Diane and Simon didn't suspect anything, apparently. So are you going to tell me what's -really- going on before I have myself committed?"

"I will," replied Sam, "But right after that, you have to tell me what's going on with my senses." His hand outstretched, Sam asked Blair, "Do we have a deal?" Blair, in response, firmly and silently shook Sam's hand, waiting for Sam to begin.

Taking in and letting out a deep breath to steady himself, Sam began, "Well, as you already know, my name is Dr. Sam Beckett. I guess you could say I'm from your future."

Blair's eyes widened a bit in surprise. This was getting stranger by the minute. [Maybe I am just seeing things...] Out loud he repeated skeptically, "The future?"

Sam nodded. "You're familiar with atomic physics?"

Blair nodded, "Vaguely..."

Sam then asked, "Do you remember the basic physical principal of a quantum leap?"

Blair nodded again. "It's when an electron in an excited state jumps from one level to another, sometimes between atoms, and releases energy in the process, isn't it?"

Sam replied, "That's right, more or less. Well, to make a - really- long story short, I came up with this idea that, if we could expand the quantum leap theory on a gross molecular level, an individual would be able to travel through time within his own lifetime."

Confused, Blair stopped Sam and asked, "But wait a minute, then how did you end up 'sharing' a body with my partner?"

Sam sighed. He hated having to admit this part. "Something took over the experiment...something we don't even know how to explain yet. Apparently I can travel in the timeline of my own lifetime, but I don't go as myself. Instead, I could leap into just about anyone who happens to be on the planet during that time. At that point, I share part of 'me' with that person, and the part that I 'displace' ends up in my body which is in a section of the project we call the waiting room. That's where your partner is right now."

Blair grew immediately concerned. "He's okay, though, right?"

Al nodded, rubbing the back of his head in response. "He's fine. Gave me quite a headache in the waiting room."

Now Sam was curious. "Really? What happened?"

"He threw me against the wall."

Sam's eyes widened in concern for his friend. "Are - you- okay, Al?"

Al shrugged it off. "Sure. I got hurt worse in bar fights in 'Nam. Evidently, Ellison was a little ticked when he woke up and found that I was there and Sandburg wasn't."

The young Guide's concern eased. [Yep, that sounds like Jim...] Blair turned, realizing that this was the first time that the man with the loud clothes had spoken more than a few words. Still not comfortable with the idea of talking to a hologram, Blair asked Sam, "So who's he?"

Ignoring the snub, Al took the opportunity to introduce himself, giving a small salute. "Name's Al Calavicci. Nice to meet you, Blair."

Blair reached out, figuring he was going to shake Al's hand. Staring at the outstretched arm, Sam chuckled a little, explaining. "Al's my link to the project. Here, he's a hologram. We can interact by talking, seeing and hearing each other, but his hand would go straight through yours if you shook it. In the future, Al's my best friend and a partner in the project. He can access the computers at the project, which helps me figure out what's going on."

Blair still looked confused; in fact, he seemed to grow even more so. "Didn't you say that you had to be here for a reason?"

Sam nodded. "Apparently, whenever I leap into someone, I have to fix something that had devastating consequences on that person's life and change the surrounding events so that the catastrophic event does not happen. At that point, and only at that point, I'm able to leap on to someone else."

Blair asked, "So that's why you figure you're here to help us solve this case?" Sam nodded.

Blair sighed. As bizarre as all this sounded, it also made a cryptic amount of sense, except for one thing..."Wait a minute-if Al's a hologram, why am I the only one who can see him besides you?"

By this point they had reached the truck, and Sam opened the door to the passenger seat, allowing Blair to climb in. Going around to the driver's seat and opening the door, he told Blair, "I have a feeling Al can explain that better than I could. Isn't that right, Al?"

The former military man nodded, replying. "I don't have a perfect explanation, but Ziggy has come up with a theory that might make sense to our young friend here." Moving closer to Blair, Al stated four simple words that would always send the younger man's mind reeling in awe, fear, confusion and a desperate desire for understanding, but at the same time excite him like no other set of words in the English language:

"Your partner's Sentinel abilities."

Blair stared at the hologram in open-mouthed shock. Three questions were going through his mind, and he vocalized them to his 'partner' and the man's holographic companion. "Okay, number one: how did you know about that, number two: how would this tie into that, and three: how does -that- tie back into -me-?"

Sam, in turn, was simply confused. Now even -Al- was starting to accept whatever had happened to him that morning as something - normal-, a development which he wasn't quite ready to accept yet. But first..."All right, before you two start conversing in some sort of technobabble I have no hope of understanding, can I get the basics down first?"

Both Blair and Al replied at the same time, "Sure."

"All right then," Sam responded, "First, what are Sentinel abilities?"

Blair replied, "Heightened senses. A Sentinel is someone who, in pre- civilized cultures, was able to see, hear, taste, touch or feel things that were far beyond the limits of other people's senses. Psychologically, it would also be in this person's inbred nature to 'protect the tribe', as it were."

Immediately Blair sat back in the seat, stunned, as the truth finally hit him. Jim's loss of control wasn't because of any sort of external factors. At the exact point where he thought that Jim had lost control, in reality Detective James Ellison had 'leaped' out and Dr. Sam Beckett had 'leaped' into the Sentinel's body. And since Dr. Beckett, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn't have a clue as to how to control their senses if they were heightened to Jim's levels...in the barest whisper Blair exclaimed, "Oh God, you guys really -are- real..."

Sam and Al both nodded, and Sam tried to lay an understanding hand on the younger man's shoulder. In truth, he was just as shocked by Al's explanation as Blair was. [So I wasn't hearing things. I actually heard the other side of a phone conversation. Wow.]

Setting aside his own surprise, Sam asked Al his second question: "Okay, so these abilities are a part of Jim Ellison. Why does he need a medical doctor-?"

Still staring blankly out into space, Blair automatically commented, "I'm not a medical doctor."

Confused, Sam asked, "Excuse me?"

"I'm not a medical doctor," Blair replied, "The Commissioner kept referring to me as Doc because I have my Ph.D. in Cultural Anthropology, and I teach at the local University."

Now Sam was even more confused. "You're an - anthropologist-?" Blair nodded. "So, no offense, Professor, but what are you doing spending your free time riding around with a police detective?"

Now it was Al's turn to respond. "From what I can understand about this whole thing, you're Detective Ellison's Guide, am I right, Professor?" Blair nodded. Al turned to explain to Sam, "A Sentinel needs someone around, a partner in Detective Ellison's case, to help him focus and control his senses, and to pull him out of a trance-like state that a Sentinel can go into if he focuses too hard on one particular sense."

[That explains this morning...] thought Sam.

Al concluded, "That about cover it, Professor?"

Blair mused, "More or less, yeah. So how does -my- being able to see -you- tie back in with -Jim-?"

Al replied, "Well, Ziggy's theory..."

Before he could say another word, Blair stopped him, asking, "Ziggy?"

Sam shrugged, "The computer at the project. Al, you were saying?"

Al continued, "Oh. Right. Well, Ziggy's theory is that, since a Sentinel has all five senses heightened, the Sentinel's sixth sense was probably heightened as well, and because of that heightened sixth sense the Sentinel and his Guide can communicate on a somewhat telepathic level."

Sam hit his head in realization, as one of the memories of a project detail leaped into his 'swiss- cheesed memory'. "Of course! That makes perfect sense!"

Confused, Blair exclaimed, "Okay, now -I'm- the one in danger of getting lost here, guys..."

Sam explained, "Blair, the reason that I'm the only one who can see Al is that, to some degree, we're communicating on a telepathic level. His hologram is programmed at the same electrical frequency as my own brain waves. He's been able to be picked up at times by some ultra-sensitive equipment, but any adult who might even -happen- to see him would only see him for a fraction of a millisecond, which wouldn't register in their minds as being worth noting..."

Blair encouraged, "And this is the reason that -I- can see Al because...?"

Sam sighed loudly, and Al laughed. Before he could continue, though, Sam just -had- to figure out why Al was laughing. Turning to the hologram, he asked, "What?"

Trying (and failing) to contain his laughter, Al replied, "Nothing. I just know now where Ziggy gets it from. Go ahead."

Sam rolled his eyes, then continued with his explanation, hands gesturing wildly. "Anyway, the reason that Al and I are able to communicate on this level is because we're somewhat telepathically 'linked' already, for lack of a better way of putting it. You know how, with some people, when they're with one of their best friends they can tell what the other person's thinking?" Blair nodded. Sam continued, "Same thing."

Blair stated simply, "I still don't get it."

This time it was Al's turn to pick up the explanation, "Well, from the research that Ziggy was able to dig up, we're pretty sure that the strongest of these type of connections is between a Sentinel and his Guide."

Sam chimed in, "For most people, even long-married spouses, this type of connection is only a very weak link. Part of the original leap project allowed for some very sophisticated programming which, in essence, 'boosts' my link to Al so that I can see him. In young children the link can be stronger, because of their dependence on their parents, and we've had experiences where kids could see Al when I leaped into one of their parents..."

Al picked up right where Sam was leaving off, apparently reading some notes from a funny-looking clipboard that he held in his hands. "But for a Sentinel, since this 'connection' is a lifelong dependence on his guide, in many ways for his very sanity, it would make sense that they would have a stronger link. So put that together with that with the likelihood that a Sentinel's sixth sense is most likely also enhanced..."

Blair's mind was reeling - this explanation, however bizarre, did answer a lot of questions as to -why- he and Jim were always able to work together so well, even from the very beginning. And he now had -no- problem seeing where Sam and Al's explanation was headed. "And put that together with the effects of the link, and it would only make sense that I'm the only other person who can see you two."

Turning to Sam, Blair then warned, "But you need to start acting a little more like Jim. We can only keep up this 'you're acting strange' bit for a little while before Simon and Diane will start to get suspicious. Diane may not be hard for us to shake off, but Simon's known Jim for a lot of years. You don't shape up, and we'll have a big problem on our hands."

"Agreed. Any suggestions?"

Starting the engine for the drive to the ME's office, Blair insisted, "Three things: one, no mention of your abilities in public. There are only three people other than us who know about them, and two of those people are the people we just left."

"Talk tactfully in public-no problem there." Gesturing back to Al, Sam added, "If I don't watch where I talk to -him-, people think I'm nuts. What's number two?"

"Don't call me Blair. Call me Sandburg or Chief. He's always called me that, for some reason."

Glancing over at Blair, Sam let out a small chuckle. "You got it, Chief. What's the third thing?"

Blair continued, "Well, as much as I hate to mention this, I know it could come up."

Sam turned to look straight at the young man. [What now?] The concern evident in his voice, Sam asked, "What is it?"

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Blair calmly stated, "Jim never lets me drive."


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Alexandra Kastanoff sat at her over-cluttered desk, rested her head in her hands and sighed deeply. Every cell in her brain that was even -remotely- paying attention in medical school was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that the deaths of those six police officers were connected. As Cascade's Chief Medical Examiner, she could have assigned the cases to any of a dozen doctors under her, but she wanted the cases of the six cops for herself. One tradition that she had started in her last job with the Lincoln PD was that any cop's death, even of natural causes, was something she took personally. Since these men had so often given their lives to protect her and everyone else around them, she felt that helping them in the hour of their deaths was one way that she could give something back.

Trouble was, she couldn't see what the connection - was- for the life of her. Although the deaths of the cops could be attributed to natural-albeit mysterious-causes, the -timing- of the deaths was completely unnatural. What caused six men in top physical condition to drop dead within a six-hour period, all from (apparently) the same cause of death? A voice in her back of her mind kept suggesting the possibility that this was a germ warfare attack. So after six hours of trying to find another explanation and failing, she had called the commissioner's office, thinking that she, barely one week on the job would be laughed off the phone. "Germ warfare?" she could hear them saying in her mind, "In - Cascade-? Not likely, missy..."

What a relief it was to have the commissioner say that she had had her own suspicions about the deaths, and take the request for an investigative team seriously. After asking for a copy of the completed autopsy reports, the commissioner ended the call saying she would send her best investigative team over this morning.

And now, two hours later, she was waiting for the team that, according to Commissioner McPherson, would be at her office within the half-hour. As her assistant Mark dropped off a set of new forms for her to sign, he noticed the dark circles under the young doctor's eyes and commented, "You look beat, Doc."

Alex sighed again, and ran a hand through her long blond hair. "I am."

"Come up with anything new on those cop deaths?"

Alex shook her head, and started ruffling through some files to try and organize her thoughts before the Commissioner's team arrived. She replied, "No, and it's driving me nuts."

"Still think it might be some sort of biological weapon?"

Alex nodded. "Yeah, but if it is, it's like nothing out there right now. I checked the UN database and there's nothing in there that even remotely resembles what these men went through when they died. The commissioner's office is sending over their best investigative team to help me check things out..."

She stopped abruptly when she saw the smile cross her assistant's face. Curious, she asked, "What is it?"

"Have you met the investigative team yet?"

Alex shook her head. "No, they're on their way here. Why?"

Mark took a deep breath and tried to mentally sum up all the ME office scuttlebutt and police legends he had ever heard about Ellison and Sandburg into one sentence. He couldn't. "Let's just say that if the commissioner is sending over who I think she's sending over, they're not quite like any cops you've ever met."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

As Mark heard the outer door to Alex's office open, he replied, "You'll see." Not wanting to be there when the two cops arrived, Mark then quickly excused himself, "Gotta go..." and left.

A bewildered Alex watched Mark leave and wondered idly what that cryptic conversation was about. She soon shrugged it off, though, forcing herself to turn her attention to the tall, well-built man at her door. Looking up to the man, she asked him, "Can I help you?"

The man replied, "Dr. Kastanoff?" As Alex nodded, she noticed the younger man who had just fallen in next to the tall one.

Alex had a sudden impression that she knew who these two were, but as she sized them up immediately, she thought, [This is the commissioner's top investigative team? No way.] The two men were a study in contrasts, complete opposites of each other: the tall man was not just tall, he was also huge, an imposing figure that just screamed "ex-military". On the other hand, the shorter one was far thinner, had a mane of dark curly hair that seemed to fly around him in synch with his level of enthusiasm, which was equally high-energy. [Well, Mark -did- say they would be like no other cops I've ever met...]

Shrugging off the thoughts, she realized she hadn't answered the older man's question yet. "Forgive me, gentlemen, but I haven't had much sleep recently, so I'm a little slow today. I'm Dr. Kastanoff."

As both men shook her offered hand, they introduced themselves; first the taller, then the shorter. "I'm Detective Ellison, and this is my partner, Professor Blair Sandburg. We're here about the deaths of the six policemen over this past weekend?"

"Ah yes," replied Alex, "The reason I haven't gotten much sleep the past few days." Gesturing to two chairs in her office, she invited them, "Please, gentlemen, take a seat."

As she sat down herself, she began, "May I find it safe to assume that the Commissioner has briefed both of you on the general aspects of the case?" Sam and Blair both nodded, at which point Alex handed them two files that contained copies of her detailed reports and notes on the cases. She began,

"Gentlemen, I can safely say that I've never seen anything like this in my life. I've found no evidence of bacteria, virus, toxins, or any sort of poisons in any of these men, and yet all these men died from complete oxygen deprivation. It's like someone simply sucked the oxygen out of their bodies so gently that there was no damage to any of their vital organs."

Sam skimmed over the report, then asked, "Doctor, in your report you mention that you suspect this to be some sort of biological weapon?"

Alex nodded. "Yes, but if it is, it's not one that's commonly known. I checked against the UN reference database, and nothing matched the symptoms that these men have."

Sam then asked, "May we take a look at one of the bodies?"

Cautiously, Alex nodded.

Sam and Blair followed Dr. Kastanoff into the main autopsy bay. As she set about making sure that the body of Officer Jim Smith was sewn up and ready to be viewed by the two men, Blair tapped Sam on the shoulder and whispered in a voice only Sam could hear clearly, "Do you know what you're looking for?"

Sam shook his head subtly, and whispered back, "I have a feeling I'll know it when I see it."

Suddenly a loud beep interrupted the doctor's ministrations. Looking up from the body, she walked over to the nearby intercom and pushed a small button. "Yes?"

A male voice answered, "I'm sorry, Doc. Normally I wouldn't interrupt you like this, but the mayor's on the phone."

Alex sighed loudly, "Again? All right, Mark, I'll be right there." Turning off the intercom, she turned to Sam and Blair and asked, "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I have to take this call. Will you be all right in here without me for a moment?"

Before Sam could have any possible chance to protest, Blair replied, "Yes, we'll be fine, thank you."

Smiling and nodding her acceptance to the two men, Alex excused herself, "Very well, then - I'll be back after I finish this call."

Sam and Blair stood next to the officer's body, waiting patiently until the Medical Examiner left. Both men nearly jumped out of their skins soon after, though, as they heard Al exclaim behind then, "Now - there's- a body I'd like to examine..."

Turning around to face the hologram, both men warned him simultaneously, "Al..."

Defensively, Al waved the datapad and his cigar in front of him in an attempt to get the two men to back off. "What? I can't appreciate a truly impressive member of the female persuasion?"

Sighing, Blair turned to Sam. "Is he always like this?"

Sam nodded. "Actually, sometimes he's worse."

Shrugging off Al's behavior, Sam and Blair turned back to the body. Blair instructed Sam, "All right now, Sam, take in a deep breath and picture the dials in your head the way you did this morning." Sam complied, and Blair continued, "Now bring up the dials slowly, one at a time, just to the point before they'll go out of control."

Sam seemed to comply, and when he opened his eyes, it was as if he was looking at the body through a microscope. He immediately started to examine every inch of the corpse, looking for any sign of how this officer might have died. Blair kept a running monologue of carefully worded questions going next to him, and he seemed to be able to use the distraction to limit his focus enough that he didn't go into another self-imposed trance, while Al kept an eye out for the lovely lady doctor.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Sam apparently found what he was looking for, and he cursed his bad luck. He called for the attention of the young man still talking next to him, "Hey B- Sandburg?"

"Yeah, Sam?" replied Blair.

"I think I've found it. I think I know what killed these men."

Al announced, "Good thing too, Sam, 'cause she's on her way back right now."

Blair whispered to Sam, "Whatever you've found, make sure she can verify it."

Sam declared, "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

Within seconds, Alex came through the doors, apologizing, "Sorry that took me so long, gentlemen."

"Quite all right," replied Sam. "Actually, I was wondering if you might be able to do me a favor?"

Shrugging, Alex offered, "Sure. What do you need?"

Taking the left hand of the corpse in one of his own, he asked, "Could you take a skin sample off of the second finger of this hand and run it under the microscope for me?"

Alex looked confused. "What are you thinking, Detective?"

Sam simply shrugged, and smiled what he hoped was his most endearing smile. "Indulge me."

Alex raised a cautious eyebrow at Sam as she put on new gloves of her own, thinking, [I think this is taking full cooperation a bit too far. What does she think this is, some kind of joke? I can't believe that this is the best the Cascade PD has to offer...] Bringing over a scalpel, she asked Sam sarcastically, "Is there any particular piece of the skin you'd like to see? Or would just a general sample do?"

Ignoring the sarcasm in the Medical Examiner's voice, Sam requested, "Actually, if you could remove a roughly one centimeter-square segment of the skin near the ridge of the fingerprint, I think you'll find something important."

Alex glared at the detective. "Something important?"

Sam simply nodded, trying to "Like I said, indulge me."

Alex sighed loudly, but did as she was requested. [The commissioner's going to owe me big for having to entertain this couple of mental patients...] Taking the sample and putting it under slide glass, she brought it over to the microscope, and focused in so that she was able to see the individual cells.

Her jaw seemed to drop closer and closer to the floor as the sample came into clearer and clearer focus under the microscope. [How in the name of all that is holy...] She tore her eyes away from the sample to gawk at Sam in amazement. "How in the world could you have possibly...?"

Working, as always, to divert the attention away from his partner's abilities and back onto the case, Blair asked the Medical Examiner, "What did you find?"

Realizing there was someone other than herself and Detective Ellison in the room, Alex turned to Blair and explained, "The skin has been broken on a microscopic level. The laceration seems partially healed, so the incision could only have been made within five minutes of the subject's time of death..."

Blair thought out loud, "What, kind of like a killer paper cut?"

He was trying to make a joke, but the solemn nods he received from both Alex and Sam in response told him that he wasn't too far off the mark.

Sam asked Alex, "Would you mind if I confer with my partner in the hallway for a minute?"

Still in a bit of a daze, Alex replied blankly, "Sure. Go ahead." With the astonished look never leaving her face, she turned back to the microscope to take another look at the sample, only barely recognizing the sound of the autopsy bay doors closing behind Sam and Blair.

After the door closed behind Blair, Sam craned his head around to see if anyone was watching, then directed, "All right, Al, stand right behind Blair. Blair, nod your head so that it will look like I'm talking to you." As the young man and the hologram moved into position, Sam instructed, "All right, Al. I need you to ask Ziggy to look up anything she can get on a weapon called the Conspiracy Theory."

Al replied, "Got it, Sam."

Blair then asked, "Conspiracy Theory? You mean you've seen this weapon before?"

Sam nodded. "I just remembered studying something about it in Med School. The weapon works in two stages: one, a gas is released into an environment where the intended victim is guaranteed to be, like the home or workplace. The gas contains a biological agent that is immediately absorbed into the skin, but is relatively harmless without the second component."

Blair prodded, "And that component is-?"

Sam continued, "A toxic biochemical agent that bonds to the oxygen atoms in the victims body, converting them immediately to carbon monoxide ions."

By this point, Ziggy had finished compiling his research, and Al started shaking his head in disbelief. "Jeez, you're right about this stuff, Sam. This is nasty! The worst part, though, is that once the second agent enters the bloodstream, even through the tiniest of wounds, the victim is dead within hours. Ziggy just attributed the deaths in Cascade Headquarters to the weapon. She says there's a 100% probability that you're here to stop someone from deploying this weapon. Sam, if you can stop this thing, it could save at least a million people."

Blair shook his head in amazement. "A million people?" Al nodded.

Focusing on the task at hand, Sam asked, "Blair, this next part is important. Is there -anyone- who would have handled more than one of these bodies without gloves?"

Blair's first thought was to assume, "No, of course not..." but then he remembered a certain stubborn, pigheaded forensics officer who would barge into any and every crime scene she considered 'hers'. She frequently contaminated evidence by leaving her fingerprints all over the scene...Blair's face paled as he realized, "Oh God...Cassie..."

Sam picked up on the name immediately. "Cassie?"

"Cassie Wells. Cascade's Chief of Forensics. She probably would have been at all the crime scenes."

"What about any of the other members of her team?" asked Sam.

Blair shook his head. "They go on a scene-by-scene rotation schedule. But Cassie can pick and choose her cases, and I'll bet you anything she would have wanted to work on these. And they're a heck of a lot more careful than she is."

Sam drew in a deep breath. All the crime scenes? That means she would have been exposed to the second bioagent repeatedly. If she had been exposed to the first one...before he could even direct the words to anyone in particular, Sam announced, "We have to find this Cassie Wells -now-. She could be in danger..."

As they started to rush out of the Medical Examiner's building, Jim's cell phone rang. Sam looked in his pocket for the ringing object, and answered the phone, "Ellison."

After a few repetitions of "Yeah", Blair watched with concern as Sam's face went pale. As Sam closed the connection to the phone, Blair asked him, concerned, "Sam, you okay, man?"

[God, how am I going to tell him this?] thought Sam. Gesturing to a nearby chair, he suggested, "Blair, I think you should sit down."

Blair grew even more concerned as Sam led him into a chair and sat down next to him. "What is it? Sam, you're scaring me here."

Sam ran a hand across the top of his head and let out a deep breath. "Blair, I don't quite know how to tell you this...best I just come out with it. That was Simon. Cassie never came in to work today, and when a neighbor went to check on her an hour ago, he found her body. I'm sorry."

The shock and disbelief evident on his face, Blair got up instinctively and started pacing the room. He babbled, "No no no no no, it's not possible. I just talked to her yesterday, and she sounded fine. Why would someone want to kill her? Oh God..."

By this point, Sam had stood up, following the lead of his partner, and Blair nearly ran into the man, who didn't hesitate to quietly pull him into a strong embrace. Blair closed his eyes, deciding for once - not- to believe what he was seeing. The arms felt like Jim's, the embrace offered the same warm comfort, and for Blair, it was close enough. It was in that moment of acceptance that Blair allowed himself to relax, and cry a little for his friend.

* * *

Simon Banks hated funerals. Especially when it was one of his fellow officers in the casket. And he had been attending far too many funerals lately. It was bad enough when he knew that one of his men had died on the job, but that was one of the risks you took. Everyone knew it, and anyone who couldn't handle it didn't stay on the force very long.

It was worse, though, to know that, at this point, no one knew how these men died. And then to find out that morning that Cassie had become the next victim...Simon collapsed into his chair and sighed loudly. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

A knock on the door took him away from his morose musings. Looking up, he noticed his best 'team' blocking the doorway to his office. Waving them in, he closed the door and asked, "I - sincerely- hope that you have something for me, gentlemen?"

Blair's focus shifted away from his captain toward somewhere in the direction of his shoes. "Well, sir, we don't have anything we can -prove- just yet."

Simon nodded in understanding. That meant that whatever lead they had, it was obtained through Jim's abilities. "Uh uh. So what is this hair's-breadth thin lead that you two have?"

Sam filled in Jim's captain. "Sir, all these men were killed by a one-of-a-kind biological weapon."

Simon looked over to his best detective, the surprise evident on his face. "A - biological- weapon? How? And why did it only affect these six men?" [And Cassie,] he added with a mental grimace.

Sam shifted nervously. -He- knew all about this weapon, but would Simon buy the idea that Jim Ellison would know about something like this? He didn't know enough about the man to be a hundred percent certain, but too many lives were at stake to take the risk. "It's called the Conspiracy Theory, Sir. The weapon consists of two gases released separately. The first is released in a public area where the intended victim is guaranteed to be exposed to it. The second is released in an area that's more private, like the home, usually when the intended victim is not around. The second toxin is somewhat unique - if it is simply breathed in, the lungs will usually clean the toxin out of the person's system. However, if the second toxin somehow finds its way directly into the bloodstream, it converts the oxygen in the blood to carbon monoxide - effectively suffocating the victim from the inside out."

Simon stared at Jim in wide-eyed shock. "And you know about this weapon how-never mind, I probably don't want to know." Composing himself, the captain continued, "All right, so we know that all these men were killed by the same thing. What do they have in common with Wells?"

"Probably nothing, from what I can tell," replied Blair. "My guess is that she was probably exposed to the second agent because she handled all the crime scenes."

Simon hesitantly agreed. Somehow, he knew that Cassie's carelessness would come back to haunt her eventually. He just didn't think it would cost her her life. Sighing, he asked the team, "So that brings us back to one of our bigger questions. What do these men have in common?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Ziggy?! What do you mean you -can't- tell me what those six men have in common?"

"I didn't say that I -couldn't- tell you about it, Admiral," replied the computer. "I said it was just going to take me a while to access the information, since it many of their files have been classified to levels higher than this project and sealed on a heavily encrypted server."

Al sighed. Even -he- had to begrudgingly admit that even a stupid supercomputer had her limitations. "So how long is it going to take before you have the file?"

"Twelve hours, forty-eight minutes."

"AAAAARRRRGGGHHH! Sam and Blair may not have that long, Ziggy! Work faster!" His frustration reaching its limit, Al decided to go to the source.

Praying the leap hadn't swiss-cheesed that particular bit of information out of his brain, Al marched into the waiting area. "Captain Ellison?"

Having won Ellison's begrudging respect earlier, Jim stood at attention when Al stormed into the room. "Yes, Sir?"

"Do the names Jim Smith, Mark Wilkerson, Thomas Nelson, John Markham, Marcus Quinn or Adrian Pastor sound familiar to you at all?"

Jim thought for a moment before the information came to him. "Only Thomas Nelson, Sir. He was a member of my Special Forces Unit. But I thought he died before we ever went to Peru."

It was a slim lead, but it was a start. Al pressed on, "Did you ever use or hear of a biological weapon called the Conspiracy Theory?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, Sir. Nasty stuff. Nelson and I had to steal some from a chemical plant in Bolivia my first year in Special Forces." Realizing what that might mean for his partner, Jim's eyes went wide. "Has Blair been exposed to the first agent, Sir?"

Al shook his head. "Not as far as I know, Captain. What about any of the other men? You don't recognize any of the names?"

Jim shook his head. "No, Sir."

Al sighed, and punched that basic amount of information into his datapad. At least now they had something to go on. "Thank you, Captain. At least now we have a place to start from."

Turning quickly on his heel and walking out of the waiting area, Al waited for the door to close, then barked out to the air, "Ziggy! Get me everything you have on Thomas Nelson!"

* * *

Blair sighed, his frustration evident. When he looked over the case files, none of the names rang a bell. It had been hours. "I can't see a connection when I look over the files. It's like the answer is staring us in the face and we just can't see it. He turned to his partner for confirmation, and was still thrown by the fact that the 'Jim' Simon was seeing was really Sam Beckett. Catching himself before he slipped, he asked Sam, "Jim? Do you see any connections here?"

Sam skimmed over the case files, wishing he had a chance to study them further before he was forced to answer that kind of question. Did these men have something to do with Jim Ellison, or did he just leap into Jim because Jim's senses would be the key to solving the case? He feared that only Al and Ziggy would be the ones who could answer that particular question. Shaking his head, he told Simon, "Not at first glance, Chief." Turning to Simon, he asked, "Sir, if I could get a chance to study the files in more detail, maybe B- Sandburg and I could find something."

The slip going unnoticed, Simon ordered them, "Do it. I want a connection between these killings before we lose another one of our men, or worse. So far, this thing is targeted directly at cops. What if this whacko decides to release it into the general population?"

Blair and Sam both nodded curtly, agreeing with the unspoken sentiment. If this weapon was released into the population of Cascade, Ziggy's numbers would only be the tip of the iceberg.

As he watched his best detective team leave the office, Simon closed the door, poured himself a cup of coffee, and lit a cigar. Leaning back in his chair, he sighed deeply, knowing that this case was going to burden him almost as much as it would the Sentinel. [Why can't it ever be easy for those two...]

* * *

Al was waiting for Blair and Sam when they reached Jim's desk. Not waiting for either of the two men to speak, the hologram informed them, "Good news, Sam! I got us a lead. It's a small lead, but it's a lead."

Since Al was sitting right next to Sam, Blair was able to direct the question to the older man without making it look like he was talking to thin air. "What is it?"

"Apparently, Jim Ellison knew a Thomas Nelson from his days in Covert Ops. They even stole a couple of canisters of the Conspiracy Theory weapon from a plant in Bolivia years ago."

The minute Sam heard that Jim Ellison had been involved in anything related to the Conspiracy Theory, he knew this was no longer a conversation they would be able to hold in public. Before he could excuse himself, though, Blair suggested, "Why don't we go back to the last crime scene, see if you can come up with anything Forensics might have missed?"

Apparently, the young anthropologist was thinking along the same lines. Seizing the opportunity, Sam agreed, "Sounds good to me, Chief. Let's go."

As soon as they got to the truck, Sam asked, "Okay, so where are we -really- going?"

Blair replied, "The loft. Jim's laptop has access to the department's computers."

Sam nodded his agreement. That -would- be the best place for the three of them to talk in private, wouldn't it? And a whole lot nicer than the bathroom. "Let's go."

* * *

The hologram was waiting for the two men when they got back to the loft. While Blair booted up Jim's laptop, Sam asked his 'partner', "Okay, Al, what did you find out?"

Punching up the information on his datapad, Al explained, "Thomas Nelson was in Special Forces around the same time that Ellison was - started a couple years earlier than he did. Military kid for most of his life - apparently his father was an astronaut or something. Major Anthony Nelson. Why does that name sound familiar..."

Realizing the hologram was getting off track, Sam warned him, "Al..."

The warning tone in Sam's voice was enough to bring the observer back on subject. "Sorry. Anyway, about twelve years ago, Nelson and Ellison were ordered to go to Bolivia and steal the prototype of the Conspiracy Theory weapon. Once they completed their mission, they handed the canister over to their CO and didn't hear anything about it after that."

A feeling of dread washed over Blair the minute he heard that Jim's days in Special Forces was their link to one of the men. He asked Al, "Was Thomas Nelson one of the men that went with Jim to Peru?"

Al was thrown for a moment, having forgotten that Blair could both see and hear him. Recovering quickly, he turned to Blair, informing him, "No. Apparently he had gone MIA in a mission three months earlier."

Something about the events that Blair and Al were talking about was vaguely familiar to Sam, but since he couldn't quite place why, he asked, "Excuse me, guys. Special Forces? Peru?"

Blair sighed, then realized that Sam didn't know about Jim's - entire- background. Obviously the fault lie in one place. "Al, you didn't tell him?"

[Great,] thought Al, [not only can he see me, but now he has to second-guess my every move?] "I never had the chance to! Usually, Sam and I get a chance to talk -in- -private- at the beginning of a leap, but every time we turned around, -you- were there!"

Feeling he might have sufficiently shut the kid up for a moment, Al then continued, "Anyway, Sam, about ten years ago, -Captain- Jim Ellison's helicopter crashed in the Peruvian jungle. His entire team died in the crash and he was considered dead as well until some recon photos showed well-ordered graves for each of his men. When they went in to recover the bodies, they found out that Ellison was alive and well, had been the one to bury his men and single-handedly completed the mission."

Blair chimed in quietly, "He had been told they were to train the Indians to defend against some rebel forces at the time, when in reality their CO had sabotaged the mission, expecting all the men to either die in the crash or in the jungle. The only reason Jim was able to follow through with his orders was because the local Indian tribe recognized him as a Sentinel and trained him to use his senses."

Now that he was up to speed, Sam spoke up. "Al, can you check Cascade PD records and find out how long Thomas Nelson was on the force before he died?"

Both Sam and Blair checked their databases, but Blair was able to find the information first. His eyes widened as he scrolled down in Thomas Nelson's personnel record. Leaning back against the couch again, Blair started to mutter under his breath, "This has got to be a coincidence..."

Sam didn't like the look that Blair had on his face. "Blair? What is it?"

Looking up at Sam, his concentration had wandered just enough that he was seeing Jim's face again. Shaking himself to get his mind back on track again, Blair told them, "The department database says that Thomas Nelson joined the force four years ago, exactly one week after we recovered Jim." Realizing that he had another source for more covert information available to him, he asked the hologram, "Al? Is there any way that you can get a picture of Thomas Nelson from his days in the military?"

Al nodded, punching the code to open the imaging chamber into his datapad. He didn't like where the kid was going with this, but it made a sick amount of sense. As the door opened in a flash of brilliant white light, Al called to the two men, "I'm on it." Then, stepping through the door, he and the light both vanished.

Once Al had left, Sam had the opportunity to catch up on the one piece of information he was missing. "What do you mean, 'After you recovered Jim'? What happened?"

Blair told him, "A couple of years or so after I started working with Jim, he was kidnapped by his old Special Forces CO, who thought Jim might have found out about a drug running operation he had going out of Peru. Sim-Captain Banks and I were able to find out where they were holding Jim and rescue him just before they were about to kill him. Evidently, we must not have captured all his men."

A white flash of light told them that Al was back in the room. The hologram was holding a printout in his hands. Sam turned to his friend and asked, "Okay, Al. What do you have?"

Moving so the other two men could see him, Al walked around the couch and stuck his arm through the couch between Sam and Blair, so that the two men could compare the photo he had with the one in the Cascade PD files.

Blair shivered for a brief minute as he watched the disembodied hand coming through the couch. Quickly regaining his composure, though, he looked at the two pictures and immediately came to the same conclusion that Sam had just reached seconds earlier. Whistling, he commented, "Well, whoever that man is that's sitting in the morgue, it sure isn't Thomas Nelson."

Sam agreed. "Which brings up another important question. Who is he?"

Al chimed in, "Yeah, and where's the real Thomas Nelson?"

* * *

Marjorie took the stairs two by two, knowing she was running late. That was the worst part about taking a job with the police, she figured - make a mistake in your average banking firm and the worst that could happen is the company might lose some money and you'd get fired. Make a mistake here and people could actually die because of it. So she knew that if she didn't get these forensics results to Captain Taggart in Major Crimes within the next ten minutes they'd lose their shot at getting a warrant and since that wasn't something she wanted on her conscience...

Marjorie screamed as she tripped on the stairs, sending papers flying everywhere. Letting out her frustration with a string of curses, she looked down at her feet and realized that she had broken a heel. Muttering something about good-for-nothing Payless shoes, she started picking up the papers piece by careful piece, praying that somehow everything would be in order, when she nearly bumped into someone else in the stairwell. Looking over at a pair of sweet brown eyes, she realized that he was trying to help her. "Thank you -so- much," she exclaimed as she continued to pick up papers. "You have no idea how much this means to me..."

"It was my pleasure, ma'am," replied the man politely. "Anything I can do to be of service."

Marjorie looked back at the man and smiled sweetly. "Wow...I wish all these guys could be like you," she gushed. "Some of these guys are just, well..."

"Pigs?"

"Yeah," she agreed, "pigs." As he handed her the rest of the papers, Marjorie looked through the pages and realized that it would just have to do. She was almost out of time. But she couldn't let her savior go without at least a-when she looked up from the papers he was already up the next flight of stairs. She called up, trying to get him to stop. "Hey!"

The man turned around, and since Marjorie couldn't see his nametag from that distance, she asked, "I don't even know your name, officer..."

"Oliver, ma'am. Officer Oliver."

"Well," said Marjorie, "Thanks again for your help, Officer Oliver. You came just in the nick of time."

* * *

"Okay," declared Blair, "We now know that Thomas Nelson isn't really Thomas Nelson and that the real Thomas Nelson was someone Jim knew from his Covert Ops days. We also know that Mark Wilkerson was Thomas Nelson's partner, so we can assume that he might have caught on that Mr. Nelson wasn't who he said he was."

Sam asked, "So is Thomas Nelson our connection here? Maybe he's our killer and just contaminated himself with the two agents by accident." Sam knew he was reaching, but it was possible.

Blair shook his head. "If that were the case, no one else would be in danger and you wouldn't have leaped in here when you did. No, this ties into something related to the fake Thomas Nelson and the true Thomas Nelson's real background, I'm sure of it." Turning to Al, he then asked, "Are you -sure- Jim didn't recognize any of the other names?"

Sam and Al's gaze shifted uncomfortably away from the young anthropologist. Evidently, he had said something wrong, but for the life of him he couldn't tell what it was. "What is it, guys?"

Sam informed him, "One of the side effects of leaping is large gaps in your memory." Realization dawned on his face as he concluded his explanation, "Between my swiss-cheesed brain and his swiss-cheesed brain he could have some relationship to any of those men and not remember it because it would be more recent in his memory than Thomas Nelson." Immediately Sam shifted his position on the couch to include Al, who was pacing behind him. "We've been looking for connections these men might have had with each other. Is it possible that each of these men, individually, might have had-"

Al and Blair finished Sam's thought at the same time he did. "Connections to Jim."

Blair immediately stared typing on the laptop, while Al started punching in codes to the keypad. Blair was the first to come up with something. "Okay, Jim Smith was in missing persons, and they loaned him to Major Crimes to help when Jim disappeared."

Al came up with something next. "John Markham worked with Ellison on a Narcotics case when Ellison was in Vice."

"Marcus Quinn taught at the Academy when Jim was there. Who knows what kind of contact they had?"

"Aaaaaaaaand, Jim Ellison wrote Adrian Pastor's letter of recommendation to get into the academy because his father was one of the men who died in the crash in Peru."

Blair ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Okay, these four guys all have indirect connections to Jim?" Al nodded, his information backing that up. Blair continued, "So the question remains, how can we connect that to Thomas Nelson?"

A light bulb went off in Sam's head. "Wait a minute, we're missing something obvious here. Al, Jim's CO for the mission in Bolivia-was it the same guy who tried to kill him in Peru?"

After punching a few keys on the data pad, Al replied, "I couldn't tell you, Sam. Ziggy can't get a hold of that information yet."

Sam waved off Ziggy's difficulties. "All right then, let's just say that it is." Turning to Blair he asked, "Is that the same guy who had kidnapped Jim over his drug operation?"

Blair nodded. He could tell where Sam was going with this; there was just one problem. "But he's dead. I saw them cart away his body."

Al just shrugged. "Maybe the guy's immortal."

Sam and Blair looked up at Al, confused. Defensively, Al waved his hands in the air and exclaimed, "Hey, it wouldn't be the first time we ran into someone like that!" Realizing that was of -no- help in convincing the two men, Al decided to change the subject. He asked Blair, "What was the guy's name?"

"Colonel Norman Oliver."

Punching the name into the datapad, Al got back an immediate response. "Ziggy says most of the stuff on him is classified, so it'll take her a couple of hours to get any intel." As Al continued to watch information stream by on the datapad, all of the color drained from his face, and his voice rose in a panic. "Sam, you guys better get back to the police station pronto! According to Ziggy, the first of the cops is going to drop dead in about an hour!"

Both Sam and Blair's eyes widened to match Al's. Apparently, they had no more time to find the culprits. Hurrying to grab their coats, the cell phone and the keys to the truck, Sam declared, "Al, we'll meet you there!"

As Al watched the two men leave the loft, he responded, "Okay Sam." Then, calling through his link to the project, the observer yelled, "Gooshie, center me on the station now!"

* * *

Blair was just getting off the cell phone as he and Sam pulled up to the building. "Simon says he'll try to alert the building, but he can't promise they'll get to every department in time."

"That means we have to find him ourselves." Sam looked up at the tall police headquarters building. "Where would someone go if they wanted to release the second bioagent into a place this big?"

The answer, of course, was obvious, and Sam and Blair came up with it at the same time. "The roof." Not wanting to waste time with an unpredictable elevator, they took the stairs two by two. About halfway up the stairs Al's disembodied voice called down to them. "Sam, you guys better get up here! This guy's got enough of the second agent to kill everyone from here to Seattle!"

Without a word to each other, Blair and Sam started to take the stairs three at a time.

* * *

The door leading from the stairs to the roof came almost too fast for Sam, and the flood of light after two flights of near-darkness was disorienting at best. Blair watched him for a minute, confused as to why Sam was suddenly staggering. Then as the man clutched at his eyes, he immediately recognized the problem. Pulling him back toward the wall, Blair ordered, "Dial back your sight, Sam. Let your eyes get adjusted to the light."

As the older man leaned back, the disorientation seemed to be clearing. Before Sam could express his thanks, Blair ordered, "Now open up your hearing, Sam. Where is he?"

Incrementing the dial on his hearing as Blair had taught him, he heard the slight squeak of a valve opening. "He's to my right," Sam whispered.

"Close? Far away?"

Sam concentrated for a minute. "Very close-not more than ten feet."

Blair wondered if Sam was working with -his- knowledge of Jim's abilities or Jim's knowledge of his abilities. If they split up, and they were working based off Sam's assumption, their guy could be three buildings over. Best stick close. "Okay, on three. One...two..."

A third voice came up from behind them. "Three." Sam could feel the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed dangerously close to his ear as he turned around to face the man they'd been searching for. Blue eyes, blond hair, older, military bearing. It wasn't hard for Blair to place a name with the face.

"Colonel Oliver, I presume?"

Glancing over Sam's shoulder at Blair, Oliver barely acknowledged his presence. Keeping his gaze constantly on Sam, Oliver commented. "You must be that Sandburg who hangs around Ellison all the time. Some of the people in the department speak very highly of you..for a hippie freak. Shame you two aren't downstairs." Oliver sighed loudly - Sam could only assume it was for show. "I guess we'll just have to find some other way to make your deaths equally as painful."

It was times like these that Sam was grateful to have kept some of Jim's memories. Which, in this case, included how to disarm a psycho standing behind you with a gun to your head. Problem was, if he ducked and Oliver fired, the shot would either hit him in the back of the head, or hit Blair. He knew he had to think of something, and fast. The fact that Al was behind him, calling out "Sam, whatever you're going to do, hurry! He's already started pumping the gas into the ventilation system!" only motivated him to think faster.

Finally, he came up with an idea. He only hoped this 'link' between himself and Blair was strong enough that Blair would know what he was going to do before he did it. Not taking his eyes off Blair, he called back to his attacker, "Why do it, Colonel? Why risk your own life just to get back at me?"

Oliver laughed sadistically behind him. "Ellison, your little 'no pain, no gain' stunt cost me a dozen of my best men and almost thirty million dollars. Did you -really- think that I could let that go unanswered, hmmm?"

Blair caught on to what Sam was trying to do, so he asked, "But then why not just go after the two of us, Colonel? Why go after the whole department?"

Oliver rolled his eyes at the younger man. "Going after the two of you would have given me a modicum of satisfaction. But taking out the -entire- Cascade PD? Well, that would give me a whole new lease on life, now wouldn't it?"

Al yelled to the group, "Sam, whatever you're going to do, make it snappy!"

Sam pretended to ignore Al's urgent pleas, instead explaining to Blair, "By using the Conspiracy Theory agent to kill everyone in the building, he'd make a name for himself in terrorist circles. He'd be set for life."

Sam could feel Oliver's nod by the change in where Oliver's breaths hit the back of his neck. Instinctively he knew just where the man's head was as Oliver spoke behind him. "Very good, Ellison. I always knew you were smarter than you looked."

"There's one thing you didn't plan for though, is there, Colonel?"

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion even as he smiled. "Really, Ellison. And what is that?"

"This." In one swift motion, Sam ducked, turned around, and knocked the gun out of Oliver's hand before he ever had a chance to fire it. His medical training working in tandem with Jim's instinctive abilities, he both heard and felt the loud snap of breaking bone as Oliver's nasal bone and septum were forced into his skull by Sam's precise shot. Oliver quickly crumpled to the ground, dead.

Sam staggered back, reeling from what he had done. He was a - doctor-, a - scientist- for cryin' out loud! And yet he had killed that man almost instantly. So why did it feel so -right- to him?

His thoughts came back to his present purpose when he saw Blair running toward where Al was screaming for someone to shut off the leaking gas cans. If Blair was exposed to the first agent...and he gets his hands on that canister...Sam broke into a run himself. "Blair!"

Blair didn't stop until Sam tackled him, using his size and strength to get the younger man away from the containers. Realizing that Blair was fighting his hold, Sam hissed, "It's too late, Blair! If you touch that container you could die, too."

Blair looked up, his anger clouding his concentration enough that he saw his partner's blue eyes instead of Sam's brown ones. "But what about those people in there?!"

Sam looked back at the leaking canisters, attempting to focus his enhanced sight on the containers without Blair's help. To his surprise, he was able to turn up the dials easily, and discovered that only one of the dozen or so small containers was leaking the bioagent. Apparently, Oliver had only been able to open one of them before he had heard the two men coming. "They'll be fine, Blair."

"How can you be -sure-?"

To Sam's surprise, Al provided the answer to that question. "Apparently, your Captain Banks worked from the top floor down when he made the calls about the evacuation. The places where the agent was most highly concentrated were evacuated while Oliver was holding a gun to your head, Sam. Everyone else was able to get to the hospital in time. You did it guys!"

At Al's insistence that everything was okay, Blair finally allowed himself to relax. It was at that point that Al noticed the body on the other side of the canisters. Walking through the air vents to examine it, he noticed the condition of the late Colonel Oliver's face. "Jeez, Sam, did you do this?"

As Sam helped Blair up, he let out a deep, regretful sigh. "Yeah, Al, I did."

Al's initial reaction was one of respect. "Wow. Nice work." He was beginning to be grateful he had gotten a drop on Jim Ellison early in the waiting room. If the guy was capable of -this-...he shuddered to think about it. Almost immediately, though, the respect turned to concern. Sam rarely had to kill someone during a leap, but when he did, he never took it well. Crossing back over to meet Sam and Blair, he asked, "Are you okay, buddy?"

Since Blair was limping slightly from the way he had landed on the ground, Sam was letting the younger man use his shoulder to keep his balance as they walked. Turning his concentration from Blair back to Al, he confessed, "Actually, I'm okay, Al. It just felt like I did what I had to do, that's all."

Finally getting the hang of balancing his hurting foot with Sam's strong shoulders, Blair muttered, "Blessed Protector instincts at work again."

Confused, Sam asked, "Blessed Protector instincts?"

Blair realized that Sam wasn't familiar with the term. "It's a part of Chinese culture. You see, the Chinese believe that when you save someone's life..."

Sam tried to listen to the younger man's explanation, but the familiar sensations of leaping started to overwhelm him...

...and when the light had cleared, it hadn't. A blue, light-filled, mist was enveloping him. Since he was still disoriented from the leap, he simply stood there, confused. Blue lightning bolts started coursing through his body, filling him with an energy that could only be described as a mixture of agony and ecstasy, and he screamed with the thrill of it. In the background, he could hear explosions and the sound of hundreds of panes of glass breaking.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the lightning stopped, and the chaos diminished into silence. As he collapsed in exhaustion, he was finally able to get his bearings enough to see that he was holding a sword in his hand, and a headless body lay at his feet. Between hungry gulps of the cold air, Sam was finally able to speak his first two coherent words in this new body.

"Oh boy!"

**-end-**

* * *

And in case you're wondering folks, I did that so you guys wouldn't be clamoring for a sequel. I'm leaving the _Highlander_ fanfic up to others who are far more capable than I. *g*


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